For the Better I Hope
by justin.jossart
Summary: Arthur Morgan dies on a mountain cliffside... then wakes up in Horseshoe Overlook, back before things went bad... or worse than they'd been. At first, he shakes it off as a bad, but vivid, nightmare, but as everything starts going the same as it did, he realizes that he has a second chance. Can he make things better, or will he just end up making them worse? Arthur/Sadie Slowburn


**For the Better... I Hope**

**by**

**Justin Jossart**

**A/N: I know it's been done, but most of these stories have been abandoned months ago. I'm going to try to _not_ do the same, though with my track record... Anyways, this is my shot at "Arthur Goes Back in Time." This is _not_ a fix-it fic. Arthur may change things, but only time will tell if they were for the better or for the worse, and Arthur may not survive, despite his best efforts. The more he changes, the less future knowledge he'll have to work from, after all. He will, eventually, find a sort of happiness with our favorite bounty hunter, but it will be incredibly slow burning, and not the main plot of the fic. Her husband just died, after all. Think of the Sadie/Arthur plot as a side plot, while his main goals are to save himself and his friends.**

**Prologue: The Sunrise and Regrets**

Arthur Morgan watched the sun rise... his last sunrise.

It wasn't a bad way to die. Well, the tuberculosis had his whole body aching, not to mention the beating he'd taken from Micah. A smirk twisted upon Arthur's blood flecked lips. Even on his deathbed, he'd given as good as he got, until the end. If he'd been healthy, he'd have pounded the little shit-stain into the ground without a problem. Micah had always been all bark and no bite, letting better men shed blood for his rash decisions. The fucking rat. Working with Pinkertons, twisting Dutch...

Though Dutch hadn't been that hard to twist, had he? In a matter of weeks, their "leader" had turned his back on everything and everyone he'd once stood for. If only Arthur had seen it sooner... except he _had_ seen it, hadn't he? Even back at Clemens Point, before moving to Shady Bell. Before Shaun had his head blown off by some Grey nobody.

Though if he could point to one moment that he'd known Dutch was full of shit, it'd have to be the first time he'd heard the older man talk about Tahiti. He'd wondered if Dutch had been serious, if he'd been delusional enough to think that they could actually go live in the Caribbean or Australia. Now, Arthur didn't think so. Dutch had been blowing smoke, like always. Throwing out some lofty dream to keep everyone 'having faith.' The only reason Arthur hadn't been sucked in, like he had so many times before, was because he could already see the cracks in Dutch's sanity.

But it went even further back than that, didn't it? Robbing that Cornwall train in the mountains, only a couple weeks after Blackwater. That had been some 'plan,' hadn't it? Ripping off a man richer than God when the Pinkertons were already on their tails? So many plans... Jenny, Davey, Mac, Shaun, Lenny, Hosea, even Eagle Flies had all been victims of Dutch's 'plans.' How many times had Hosea told Dutch to lie low? How many times had Arthur suggested the same? In the old days, before Blackwater, before _Micah_, Dutch may have listened... or maybe Arthur was kidding himself.

Of course, Arthur had no one to blame but himself. Why would Dutch start listening to him after twenty years of him just following orders? Arthur had never been an 'idea man,' leaving the planning and plots for people like Hosea and Dutch. Come to think of it, even Bill had come up with more jobs than he had.

No, Arthur was merely a 'doer.' Other people would come up with the plans, and Arthur would see them done, no matter how dangerous or crazy. There was a reason he went on pretty much every job for the gang... he was the best. If you had an impossible job to do, bring Arthur. He'd make sure that job was finished to satisfaction. But planning? Hell, no. Dutch had been the brains of the outfit, Hosea its heart, and Arthur had been the gun hand. You don't listen to a gun hand. You just point it in the direction you want it to fire.

And after Hosea died... there'd been a vacancy, one Arthur should have filled, as poor of a job as he'd have done. But Micah had seen the opportunity, then wrapped a quickly maddening Dutch around his little finger, whispering things about Arthur and John, his only real competition. Arthur had to admit that it was ingeniously done.

Arthur supposed he'd never been part of the planning because he'd never really cared for the robbing and killing. It was just something he did because it was what Dutch wanted. He was good at it, sure, but it had never been his passion. As long as he'd have had his family with him, Arthur would have been just as happy as a lawman or rancher. A grin crossed his face as he imagined the Van der Linde gang as honest-to-God lawmen. Yes, Arthur would have liked that just fine. Sitting in an empty station all day, bullshitting with John or Lenny or Charles, occaisonally going out and killing or capturing monsters... no, that wouldn't have been too bad a life at all.

Ranching wouldn't be too bad neither, he supposed. Work all day, spend the evenings with his family, listening to Uncle moan about his lumbago to get out of work while he, Charles and John did everything. Taking a day off to take Jack fishing again...

At least he'd done something right. John was safe, hopefully with Sadie, Abigail, Tilly, and Jack by now. If only they'd been able to get the money from the caves, perhaps John would have been able to live his 'ranching dream' for him. John would make a good rancher, if he'd ever settle down enough to build a proper life with Abigail, though the woman _could_ get annoying sometimes.

Pain pulsed in his chest as another round of coughs wracked his weakened body. His time was drawing short, he knew. Phlegm and blood in equal parts escaped his cracked lips, but he was too tired to wipe it away. It didn't matter anyhow. He'd be dead soon. All he had to do now was make peace with himself and God, if God existed at all in this forsaken place.

If only... If only he'd have been smarter. If only he'd done things differently, then Hosea and the rest wouldn't have died. If only he hadn't gone to shake down Mr. Downes, then he wouldn't be dying and Mrs. Downes wouldn't have ended up as a two dollar prostitute. Hell, he would have paid off Thomas Downe's debt himself if he'd have known everything that would come from beating a sick man. Not that there was any excuse for beating a sick man to begin with. Had he truly changed so much in so short a time?

No. He'd been leery even back at Horseshoe Overlook. He'd just been better at beating down his conscience. He'd let that O'Driscoll boy go, after all. Same with the train guards. He never killed someone he didn't have to, or someone Dutch didn't tell him needed killing. Never robbed someone who he hadn't been told to rob.

He wasn't a good man, but he wasn't as bad as he could have been, he supposed.

God, he hurt.

Blinking away from the rising sun, Arthur noticed a buck.. no, _The _Buck. The one he'd been seeing in his dreams for awhile. It was standing down by the treeline, its large black eyes just staring up, as if it could see him. As if it was judging him.

Arthur snorted, a few rivulets of blood trickling from his nose. If even the _wildlife_ was judging him, how would God look upon him? Upon the things he'd done?

Well, he'd find out soon enough. Looking away from the judging buck with the massive rack of antlers, he turned his gaze back to the rising sun. It hurt his eyes, but he wanted to see it one more time. A silent tear slipped from his steely blue eyes as he gave a last thought to all those he was leaving behind. John, Charles, Mary, Jack... Sadie. She'd been one of the only people he could rely on near the end. A true friend. He should have been there for her more in the early days. She'd needed a friend, someone who wouldn't try to coddle her. He should have taken her out on more of the jobs, encourage her to join the group proper like. Yet another 'should have.' He had enough of those already.

"_You're the best man I know, besides my Jake."_

If only that were true.

With a last, rattling exhale, Arthur's eyes closed. A moment later, he was dead.


End file.
